


Trollish Depersonalization

by local_dragon_haunt



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: Angst, Because I have a problem with writing angst, Changeling Jim Lake Jr, Half-Human, I am touch-starved, Revelation, Transformation, Trollish Depersonalization is something I made up, aka barbara has a changeling kink, also Stricklake never broke up, also avocado dad in this, and I'm projecting a loving parental relationship onto Jim bc of it, and jim is the product of that, because I have parental issues, because I'm not, but don't confuse that for me being sorry in the slightest bit for this, half changeling, half changeling jim, just overall headaches for everyone, takes place mid-part two, tales of arcadia - Freeform, this fic does not condone the use of any type of trollish drug, transformation angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2019-08-19 08:45:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16531268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/local_dragon_haunt/pseuds/local_dragon_haunt
Summary: “Blinky something’s—something’s wrong with me, I need out.” Jim wavered, pushing the bag away and leaning into the trolls grip. He shivered. Maybe he really was running a fever.“Out? Out of what, Master Jim?”He didn’t answer. Blinky Pressed on.“Jim,” Blinky addressed, leaning down next to the Trollhunter, “what do you need out of?”Jim’s face screwed up in a way he hadn’t felt it do so since he was five, when he realized his dad wasn’t coming back.“Me!”  He shrieked, jerking as if the body around him would fall away into something more comfortable, “My body isn’t right!”Also known as Jim contracts a Changeling Disease known as Trollish Depersonalization. The only known cure is for the affected to transform back into troll form. But Jim doesn't have a troll form....or does he?





	1. Hey, so I Thought this was a Cold but I was Horribly Wrong so-

**Author's Note:**

> Hey look, my first Fanfic for Trollhunters! 
> 
> And especially with half-changeling! Jim. I'm so original lmfao
> 
> I couldn't think of a good title for this and I didn't want to be cliche and go with 'Heritage' so sorry for that
> 
> Some notes that are probably needed:
> 
> This takes place mid-part 2, and Strickler and Nomura didn't cut off connection with the group/Barbara while they were laying low so yeet
> 
> anywho, if you can't tell, I got a thing for angsty transformations, and this is just exhibit B for that fact 
> 
> I based Jim's changeling design off of his canon troll design (which in my opinion should have been what he looked like anyways HALF-TROLL MY A S S, DREAMWORKS-) 
> 
> *ahem*
> 
> Anywho, viva la on with the story!

He wasn’t supposed to be here. His mom would worry.

Jim clutched the horngazle in his hand as he descended the crystal staircase. He probably should have put it back in his bag long ago—it had been a good few minutes since he left the underside of the bridge—but he was afraid if he took any concentration off moving his legs they would collapse from under him.

They were weak. Too weak. Which made no sense because all he had done today was go to school.

Get help. Blinky.

He started towards the troll’s library, glancing at the Heartstone in longing. God, he wanted it. For some reason his mind had determined that the heartstone would lessen the symptoms of...whatever was happening.

He originally thought that it was just a cold—the ache in his limbs and the cloudiness of his head seemed normal enough to him.

But then it got worse.

The cloudiness in his head turned into a pressure of sorts as the school day progressed, and by the time 3:00 rolled around, his entire body felt like a cage made for the sole purpose of smothering his consciousness. It felt like a wetsuit. Or—no, something heavier, more constricting, not like the comforting weight of his armor.

Armor. Amulet. Jim reached into his back pocket. The device pulsed, as if trying to comfort him. Or perhaps ease his pain and panic.

He clutched onto it like a lifeline, plucking it from his pocket and pressing against his chest, right over where it rested when he was fighting.

The warmth of it flowed through him and eased the pain a tiny bit. He could hear the not-quite-voice of it humming to him—it’s lullaby-like hum comforted him like his mom would if she was here.

No words. But he knew it was telling him to find Blinky. He’d know what to do. He’d have to.

Amulet in a death grip, he kept the arm pressed against his chest as if he was cradling a broken arm. Running. Not an option. Hurt too much. Body—not fast enough… just walk.

The five minute trek to Blinky’s library was miserable and exhausting, and by the time the stone building came into view, Jim had trouble processing that it was actually there.  
Up the steps. You gotta make it up the steps. He told himself; his thighs and calves burned like fire was engulfing them. Door. Open. Go through. Blinky.

“Blinky!” He called, voice cracking. His throat hurt. That terrible, aching burn that was a product of choking down tears and breathing too hard.

He fell again, the familiar surroundings that his mind registered as a safe place made his knees give out. Hands and knees hit rock harshly. Not as hard as in battle. But it hurt.

This body was too weak. Not—not his, he needed out.

The amulet had sprawled a few feet away when he fell. He stretched out to pick it up and—and something in his stomach didn’t want him to because the position he turned to made it _hurt._

Jim cried out in pain and curled back in on himself. He felt a disproportionate amount of disparity in his chest, as if his amulet had been broken or thrown into the deepest trench in the Deep instead of two feet from him.

His ear was pressed against the wall. The nice, cool stone bringing slight relief to his pounding head. He could hear the thumping of someone coming closer. And suddenly he was dizzy and—

Adrenaline managed to allow him to grab a nearby something before gagging into it.

“Master Jim! What seems to be so upsetting that you’ve dispelled your lunch into Tobias’ bookbag?” Blinky exclaimed, rushing into the room.

He couldn’t answer. He retched again. Tears streamed down his cheeks from the effort.

His mentor came up behind the Trollhunter and put his upper two hands on his shoulders, using the lower two to rub his back.

“You seem to be quite warm, have you perhaps caught what you humans call a fever?” Blinky asked, worry edging into his voice.

Jim spit into the book bag, face screwing up at the taste in his mouth. Tobes would be pissed at him…

“Blinky something’s—something’s wrong with me, I need out.” He wavered, pushing the bag away and leaning into the trolls grip. He shivered. Maybe he was running a fever.

“Out? Out of what, Master Jim?”

He didn’t answer. The teen didn’t know what exactly to say. He knew deep down what he wanted, just like anybody knows, but he didn’t know how to form those thoughts into words.

Blinky was saying something to Arrrgh in a raised voice—not quite a yell, but just loud enough so the other troll could hear it clearly.

“Jim,” Blinky addressed, leaning down next to the Trollhunter, “what do you need out of?”

Jim’s face screwed up in a way he hadn’t felt it do so since he was five, when he realized his dad wasn’t coming back.

“Me!” He shrieked, jerking as if the body around him would fall away into something more comfortable, “My body isn’t _right_!”

Blinky jumped a bit at Jim’s outburst. He had never seen the boy like this before. It was a bit frightening. “Master Jim, we need you to come back into my study so we can get a better look.” He said after a few moments of listening to his shaky breathing.

Jim tried to answer. He really did. But this mouth felt weird and foreign. He leaned over and picked up his amulet. He nodded.

Blinky helped him into the study. Arrrgh had already cleared a table for Jim to sit on. Well, it wasn’t so much cleaning, as it was pushing the books and other trinkets on it onto the ground.

Blinky gestured for the teen to hop onto it, and Jim hastily tried to do so. Arrrgh noticed his struggle, and gave him a small boost.

Blinky immediately shuffled over to the medical section of his library. It had been decades since he had read the book he was looking for, but he knew that what he needed was in there.

He located the mahogany red binding with a hum, turning around and focusing four eyes on the runes. The other two focused on Jim.

He looked so frail. He was rocking, as if he was testing out his body or the world around it. Whether he wanted it to change or stay the way it was, Blinky didn’t even think Jim knew.

His eyes were feverish and his pupils were dilated, flickering around the room in a sleep-deprived haze. How long had it been since he had slept…?

Aha, here it is.

Blinky set a blue hand on the page he flipped to. Delicately, he traced a finger along the runes as if greeting an old friend. He scanned down the page until he found what he was looking for.

“Master Jim, I think what you’re experiencing is what humans call ‘Depersonalization Disorder’.”

“What is de-person-a-ton disorder?” Arrrgh asked, confused. Blinky cleared his throat.

“Depersonalization Disorder. It’s a mental disorder in which the affected feels fundamentally detached or wrong in their body or environment.”

Jim shook his head and continued rocking, nails digging into the soft skin under his arm and in the crook of his elbow. No—his mom was a doctor. A good one too. She would have known early on if he had anything of the sort, and he had never had any feelings similar to this before. He scratched harder, skin peeling off and sticking under his nails. Maybe if he—maybe if he got deep enough he could rip this skin off and be free and—

“Master Jim! You are injuring yourself!”

Jim snapped back into reality for a second. His nails. They were embedded in his skin. He was bleeding. Scarlet welling up around his nails and slowly sliding down his forearm.

Blinky was bustling around, looking for bandages or anything to stop the flow. It wasn’t like the injury was life-threatening, but it still needed medical treatment.

The troll grabbed a roll of gauze and some cleaning ointment, walking over to the Trollhunter. He grabbed the teen’s left arm, and cleaned the scratches hastily, wrapping the appendage up with a furrowed brow.

Jim watched with a blank stare, as if he didn’t realize that it was his arm that was being treated.

Silence. A whole minute of it. Jim’s eyes darted around Blinky’s form without actually looking at him. He must be trapped in his thoughts.

“...not that.”

Blinky, well, blinked. He looked up at the boy, who was now back in the present.

“Not what, Master Jim?”

“Not what you said. Not the...Depersonalization thing. My mom would have figured that out by now if I had it.”

The boy had a point. He wasn’t stupid, and neither was his mother or the people she worked with. If Jim had shown any signs of a mental disorder before in his life, Dr. Lake would have been on it immediately. Damn. Crossing that off the list then.

That left Blinky in a predicament. Depersonalization Disorder was the only human disease he could think of, and as far as he knew, there was not a troll disease that went to the extremity Jim was feeling…

There was a call from out front. The gravely accented voice of Not-Enrique. The changeling and his familiar-linked-sister, Claire, had entered. The blue troll motioned for Arrrgh to go greet them. The great troll grunted in understanding and lumbered out.

“...Jim,” Blinky hesitated, glancing up at the boy, “how about you...explain what it is you are experiencing. If I can understand the extremities of your predicament I might be able to discover the cause of it.”

Jim blinked, slow to process the sentence. Trying to build up the words to explain what he was feeling to Blinky seemed nearly impossible. It was hard to concentrate when all his brain was focusing on was his instincts’ overwhelming drive to get him out of this foreign body.

He looked over one of Blinky’s shoulders as Claire and Not-Enrique walked in, followed by Arrrgh. The thespian’s brows were furrowed, so the troll must have filled her in on the situation.

“Jim, are you okay?” She asked, almost tripping over a few trinkets as she walked up to him, “Well, that’s a stupid question of course you’re not okay, but I want you to know that you’ll be okay. Toby’s already on his way back from his driving test, he already texted and said he got his license, so that’s exciting. Oh god I’m rambling aren’t I? Sorry, I’m nervous.”

Jim smiled despite the overwhelming panic coursing through his veins. His heart fluttered slightly at the gesture. “It’s the thought that counts. Tell Tobes I’m proud of him.”

Claire smiled and squeezed his hand, hopping up on the table beside him and pulling out her phone to deliver Jim’s message to Toby.

Jim closed his eyes tight and let out a fast huff of breath as Claire started typing, turning back to Blinky. “I-I feel like my body is constricting on me. Like I—like I’m too big for it and it’s fighting me. Or maybe like it’s too full and it’s being stretched but I’m inside it and it’s crushing me because it can’t expand any more.”

Against his will, Jim choked on his own tears. He scrubbed at them angrily and coughed to clear his throat. “Also it—it feels weaker than its supposed to be or-or at least than I feel like it’s supposed to be. I'm not running as fast as I thought I could or seeing as clearly or breathing as deeply or—or…”

He trailed off, shivering as he ran out of words. Claire leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder to comfort him.

Jim gave her a thankful glance, before continuing. “This body just feels...wrong. Which I know it shouldn’t, I grew up in it right? This is the only body I’ve ever known, and now I’ve woken up and it feels like I’m in some stranger’s body instead. And it’s just so frustrating and I’m scared.”

Blinky hummed, stroking his chin with one of his hands. “I don’t think I’ve heard of anything of the sort before, Master Jim. Now I don’t mean to alarm you, but I am not sure that I have the right contoxon to cure you—if there is a cure at all!”

“Naw, don’t be ridiculous. I know exactly what it is you’re feelin’.” Not-Enrique interrupted with the gravelly, rock grinding voice he had. This caused heads to swivel towards the small changeling in bewilderment.

“What are you talking about?” Claire asked her not-brother, raising an eyebrow. Not-Enrique rolled his slit eyes, and hopped up onto the table next to Jim.

“What I mean is, Jim’s feelin’ some stuff very similar to something us changelings get. I dunno the exact word for it, but it happens when we’ve been human-looking for a few days.” He said, picking between his teeth with his nail.

“Usually it takes quick switch to get the feelin’ to go away. Guess it has somethin’ to do with pretendin’ to be a fleshbag for long periods at a time.” He continued, “it ain’t natural even for us changelings, why d’ya think I was only lookin’ like that baby when it was necessary?”

There was a pause as the others processed the sentence. “Okay, but only one problem: I’m not a changeling.” Jim said, brow furrowing.

There was a mutual hum from all in the room.

Well, almost all.

Blinky was thinking. A sudden, unexplainable and insane idea had popped into his head.

“Blinky?” Jim asked, noticing his mentors inability to agree with his statement. The blue troll turned six eyes onto the Trollhunter.

“Master Jim, your father was human, correct?”

There was a silence for a moment as the teen processed the sentence. When he answered, agitation was dripping from his voice.

“Yes? What—do you think I’m an actual changeling?”

Blinky didn’t answer, opting instead to purse his lips and walk over to another her section in the library. Troll’s didn’t know much about changelings— in all of his centuries he had only come across two books on them, but maybe…

Jim was getting more and more anxious by Blinky’s silence. Mixed with the delirium of his situation, and the mention of his deadbeat excuse of a father, his voice raised in pitch and sound and turned into some mixture between a yell and a growl of frustration.

“Blinky, I’ve handled a gaggletack plenty of times! If I—if I were a changeling, we would definitely have known.” He cracked, Claire grabbed a hold of his hand and squeezed, trying to calm him down.

The four armed troll found the two books that had to do with changelings before he answered his mentee.

“Master Jim, by all means, any evidence convicting you of being a changeling has been negative. All logic proves that you should be human…”

There was a deafening silence as Blinky trailed off, interrupted only by the frantic flipping of pages.

Jim had to swallow a few times so that the lump in his throat would allow him to speak. “But..?” He choked, a complete juxtaposition from his voice from a few seconds ago. Claire’s grip tightened on his.

“But the evidence hasn’t ruled out the fact that you may be half changeling, Master Jim.”


	2. Avocado Dad is Bringing the Drugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group continues to look for a solution to Jim's dilemma. This leads them to getting Strickler involved.
> 
> viva la on with the story!

Jim expected a lurch in his stomach. A burning rage or chilled fear or humid anxiety. But instead it just reacted the same way his body did—with the complete and utter feeling that something was wrong and he needed out.

That’s all he wanted. Out.

He found that he didn’t take the statement as...enraged as he might have if he was in a normal state of mind.

“So you think my dad was a changeling.” Jim stated bluntly; he couldn’t care enough to make his voice sound like it belonged to a living person. It droned out of his mouth in a monotone.

Blinky cleared his throat, setting down the books on the table Jim was sitting on.

“I think that it could indeed be a possibility. While exceptionally rare and highly frowned upon, Trolls and Changelings mating with humans is not unheard of. Conception of such a hybrid after intercourse is even rarer, but assuming the mother contains the right minerals and maintains a healthy diet and physique during pregnancy, it could very well happen.” Blinky hesitated for a moment before adding on as an afterthought: “As a doctor, Barbara would have been very well educated in the proper pregnancy procedures and the development of a human fetus, Master Jim.”

The boy in question didn’t say anything. How could he? His dad left on his fifth birthday without even saying goodbye. He had no emotional attachment for the (supposed) human he was named after. The man was a spineless, selfish, twisted bastard. He already had the title of such in Jim’s mind—James Lake Senior being a changeling would really only make things easier for Jim to accept his absence.

The idea that his sperm donor might be a literal monster as well as a figurative one actually made Jim smile a bit.

After all, it’s easier to accept a changeling acting like a changeling, instead of a human acting like one.

Because it’s the first one’s nature. It’s a choice for the second one.

...what did that mean for him, then?

The Trollhunter was pulled out of his thoughts by Claire, who had asked a question. Apparently the others in the room decided to let him settle in his silence for a while while they continued the discussion.

“Even if Jim is half changeling—how would we stop what he’s experiencing? Not-Enrique said that it takes changing forms to get it to stop, but we’re not even sure if Jim has a troll form!”

Blinky hummed in agreement, stroking his chin. “On top of the problem as always, Miss Claire. I believe we are at a figurative fork in evidence.” He began, pacing as he always did when thinking, “By all means, previous encounters with Gaggletacks and many other enchanted items indicate that Master Jim does not have a troll form. But the mere fact that we’re here having this conversation while he is experiencing internal turmoils only comparable to those of changelings with familiars, completely disproves all of that.

The blue troll paused, scratching his head with one of his upper arms. “The only question is why…”

“Puberty?” Arrrgh suggested, glancing absent-mindedly at Not-Enrique, who was digging through the bigger troll’s fur in boredom, and shoving anything he found interesting into a makeshift sack made out of a pillowcase (which was also provided to him from the mass of green fur)

“Puberty does account for many wondrous and strenuous changes in human whelps’ bodies as they ascend into adulthood, my friend, but in such a case as this, the changing of chemicals in a human body would not activate a troll gene. We must remember, changelings are traditionally made—stolen normal troll whelps that were altered in a process we have yet to figure out. There must be some kind of activator...” Blinky reasoned, and looked over to Jim again, six eyes studying him intensely.

“So that must leave to the question of what Master Jim came into contact with to awaken and alter the troll genes in him—and subsequently turn him into a form of changeling…”

The question remained unsolved for a few hours. Toby had turned up shortly after the conversation ended, brandishing the paper copy of his driver’s license and asking Jim if he was okay in some weird cocktail of worry and excitement.

Jim tried to sleep during that time. He figured that being unconscious was the closest thing he could get to relief at the moment, but try as he might, the realm of subconscious wouldn’t bless him with its mercy.

His body ached. His limbs felt wrong. His bones felt like intruders and his organs felt like uncomfortable bags of...of wrongness.

In hindsight Jim knew the answer to the question. He just didn’t want to acknowledge it. After all, it wasn’t even proven that he was half-changeling anyway, so why were they trying to figure out what made him into one if they hadn’t even determined if he was one?

Finally, he spoke up.

“...what if it was his sword?”

It was the first thing anyone had said in a while, so naturally, it took a minute for the others to process it.

“Gunmar’s sword, you mean? Toby asked from his position on the floor. Jim nodded hollowly.

“The one he uses to turn Trolls into Gum-Gum’s. He used it on me in the Darklands. Or tried to, at least the—my amulet activated my helmet before it could do any real damage.”

“I believe you just might be onto something there, Master Jim.” Blinky praised, coming up to the Trollhunter and inspecting him.

Jim smiled at the compliment, and the four-armed troll patted him fondly on the shoulder. Blinky then hummed, looking at the book in his lower left hand.

“There is one known way to urge a changelings toll-ness to come out beside the means of a gaggletack,” the troll began, face screwing up as if he tasted something bitter—well, bitter to trolls—“but I highly disagree with it.”

“Talking about Grave Sand?” Arrrgh asked, a trace of disgust also lacing his voice. Blinky nodded grimly.

“What’s Grave Sand?” Toby asked, looking between the two trolls.

Blinky laid a book on the table before answering. “Grave Sand is a dust made of pulverized Gumm-Gumm bones. It allows changelings to shed their human forms easier and enhances the trollish instincts within. On trolls and humans however, it simply acts as a drug—a type of steroid, or something similar to what you humans call Heroine, to be exact.”

Blinky grumbled as if the word itself tainted his workroom, “Changes made to the user are random and sometimes permanent. Which is why I am so hesitant to use it…”

Like clockwork, Jim doubled over in excruciating discomfort, kicking and jerking limbs randomly as he tried to stop the strain. Blinky gazed upon his charge sadly, wishing he could just make the boy’s suffering disappear.

“However, seeing as though Master Jim’s condition seems to only be worsening, I believe we have exhausted all other options.”

A spark of energy had flown through the room at that sentence; Claire and Toby had hopped to their feet. “Well, where do we get it?” Toby asked, ready to travel to the Darklands again if it meant helping his best friend.

“That is where the issue lies.” Blinky said, clasping his upper hands together, “Gumm-Gumms have been gone for centuries—any Grave Sand us trolls possess is very sparse and expensive to acquire. It could take us weeks to find someone with some to spare.”

“We don’t have weeks!” Claire said, distress chipping off her tongue, “we’ll be lucky if we have hours!”

Blinky nodded, just as distressed, before Jim piped up again. “What if Strickler has some?”

The others in the room turned towards the teen, looking at him as if he had grown two heads.

“Okay, Jimbo, I know you’re kinda experiencing some messed up mental and physical stuff, but Strickler is the last person we want to call right now.” Toby stated. Clair turned to the other boy in retaliation.

“But what other choice do we have? Like Blinky said, Grave Sand is really only useful for changelings, so it would make sense that the Janice Order would have a bigger stache than trolls—especially since they’ve been in contact with Gumm-Gumms since the war ended!”

Toby hummed in begrudging agreement, before turning to Jim. “Do you really think we can trust him, Jim?”

The Trollhunter took a moment, having to force himself to nod. “He’s...dialed down since he went off the grid. Him and Nomura both, actually. They have nothing left to lose as changelings since they betrayed the Janice Order and Gunmar.” Jim hesitated for a moment, grimacing before adding, “Actually, Strickler might have my mom to lose. They’re still dating…”

“And if they’re dating, that means we have leverage anyways!” Toby cheered, “If Strickler ever wants to get some he needs to make sure his love interest’s son survives another night.”

“Toby!” Jim shrieked, eyes wide and face contorted in a weird mixture of disgust and betrayal, “I did not need that image!”

The ginger in question chuckled deviously, cracking a metal-filled smile, before turning to Blinky.

“So how do we contact Strickler?”

Blinky gazed towards Jim as he answered. “Well, I think Master Jim is the only one here who holds the changeling’s cellular number, so that would be our best bet.

Jim grimaced, slowly inching his hand to his back pocket, grasping at the device in it for a few moments before managing to get a grip on it.

He pulled it forward and used the thumbprint security to let himself in before even glancing at it.

Big mistake.

The teen hissed in pain as the harsh lighting of the device caught his too-sensitive eyes, causing the migraine pounding in his head to throb even more painfully.

“Ouch. Ouch okay that’s—that’s not gonna work.” He choked, trying to press past the pain and choke down a few tears of frustration. He held the phone out to Blinky, who took it tenderly, as if afraid the boy’s arm would snap off if he used too much force.

“Strickler should be under ‘Motherfucker’ in my contacts.” Jim said, an edge of pride seeping into his features despite the discomfort.

Tony snorted, ignoring Blinky’s retort about how inappropriate the contact name was in favor of stating: “how appropriate.”

“Shut Up, Tobes.”

“Hey, you can’t be mad at me! You’re the one who put that down as his contact!”

“Yeah! Because I’m the only one permitted to make tho—“

“Tobias, James, I am on the phone!” Blinky scolded in a very dad-like manner. The two teens quickly apologized as Claire snorted at the exchange.

* * *

 

Meanwhile, said changeling in question was in the middle of a dinner date with his beloved. He had been in the middle of a very fascinating conversation about medical procedures that were inevitably timeless in their ingenious, when his phone rang.

He paused for a moment, the allure that was Barbara Lake distracting him from the fact that it was his phone that was making the racket. When he finally registered the buzzing in his jacket pocket, he quickly fumbled at it, glancing at the screen as to whom was calling.

‘Young Atlas’ was displayed across the screen.

The man stopped a purplexed noise from escaping his throat, before glancing at Barbara, who was looking at him in expectancy.

“It’s work calling me.” He reluctantly fibbed, standing up and straightening his blazer. “I’ll be back to you in a moment, my dear.”

Barbara didn’t seem fazed by this—being a doctor, she was used to getting surprise calls from the hospital. Walter never fussed when she had to cut a date short, so she had no reason to be upset if he had to take a phone call.

Walter took a moment to kiss her on the cheek, before pressing the accept call button. He turned his back to Barbara as he pressed the device to his ear.

“Young Atlas, I assume you have a reason to interrupt your mother and my’s date that does not have to do with the fact that you do not approve of our relationship.” The man greeted with a bit of humor.

True, the boy still didn’t fully accept Strickler and his Mother’s attraction to one another, but the two had been dating for nearly ten months. Whatever reservations Jim had towards their relationship have lessened substantially. It was more of a good-natured rivalry now—the teen couldn’t deny that Walter truly cared for Barbara and vise versa. Nor could he deny how happy the two adults made one another.

So Walt was caught off guard when, instead of a snarky comeback in Jim’s tell-tale voice, came a rather urgent response from Dictacious’ brother.

_“As much as I apologize for the timing, Stricklander, we have a situation of the utmost importance.”_

Walter quirked an eyebrow, ignoring the slight twinge of concern in his gut that was meant for his favorite ex-student, and instead focusing on the blossoming curiosity in his chest.

“Oh, and what could be so dastardly that you’ve called upon my assistance instead of your elder?” He asked, picking absent-mindedly at a hangnail on his flesh form.

There was a shuffle on the other end, some sounds in the background that indicated Blinky was with Jim, and probably Tobias and Claire as well.

_“We believe that Master Jim is experiencing the changeling dilemma similar to Depersonalization Disorder; if we are correct in assuming that transforming is the only way to get the symptoms to stop, we are in dire need of Grave Sand so that Master Jim may be able to shift. I was told you would be our best bet to find some at such a short notice.”_

For the first time in a long, long time, Strickler blanked. As in he full-on had to process the sentence and repeat it in his head a few times to make sense of it. Even then, it just felt like someone had given a troll whelp some human flash-cards with words on them, and said ‘create a sentence’.

The man knew of the experience Blinky spoke of. Changelings called it ‘Trollish Depersonalization’. Named after the human mental disorder the troll on the other end had described. He had experienced it a few times before in his life. The only problem is that only changelings knew of the predicament.

Which led to the question: how did Jim not only know about it, but was able to explain it in such accuracy that his makeshift family was able to narrow it down to the human disease it was closest to?

Young Atlas was human. That’s all he was and all he had ever been. Or so, Walter assumed he was.

Stricklander didn’t remember much of the process when he was turned into a changeling. He was but a whelp back then, he didn’t have the brain capacity to recall the event. He did know from Nomura, however, that Jim had been in contact with Gunnar’s sword when he was in the Darklands. Could that have done it?

Strickler immediately dismissed the thought. The sword doesn’t make changelings—it makes Gumm-Gumms. There is rather a big difference between the two. The blade simply coaxes trollish DNA to mutate—like summoning cancer in humans, if you will. A mind-controlling, magic cancer.

However...if Jim was half-changeling, then the magic within the blade might just be strong enough to awaken the trollish genes within the boy.

Walter could not believe the place his mind was going. He prided himself in being a reasonable person. If he was to believe Jim had changeling blood, he needed to lay out the facts, and they just truly didn’t make sense. Conception of a human-changeling hybrid? It was completely illogical. Even if the fetus managed to survive its first year, it would serve the changeling parent no good. It would only give others leverage against them.

“If you are trying to convince someone that the Trollhunter is some sort of changeling, pull this childish antic on someone less gullible.” Walter practically hissed. He could feel his eyes burn gold and crimson for a moment.

Dictacious’ brother responded immediately with an outraged tone, obviously offended of the changeling’s assumption.

_“If you think I have stooped so low as to prank calling a mere changeling when my Trollhunter very well may be dying, then that’s your problem, but I am assuring you, Master Jim is in excruciating agony, and you are the only one that holds the key to his relief.”_

Walter immediately snapped back. “And how did you come up with the assumption that the boy even has changeling blood in his body? Have you confirmed that yet?”

There was a grumble on the other end, and the troll spoke as if through gritted teeth. _“As of yet, we have no tangible evidence. All we know is that Jim is being tormented by some physical restraint and we are trying our best to resolve it.”_

Strickler simply rolled his eyes, quite frankly getting more annoyed by the second. “I will not aid you in this matter if all you have is a hunch.” He spit the last word out to voice his agitation, “Grave Sand is extremely dangerous, and I will not give it to someone who will not use it wisely. It can be fatal to humans.”

There was silence on the other end as the troll processed his words. Walter was about to hang up when Blinky answered.

_“Are you willing to risk the life of Jim to preserve your precious sand, Stricklander? I know you are no fool. You know as well as I Jim had not been—nor will ever be—a normal boy. You have only known for three minutes and I can hear it in your voice. You know something’s amiss. You just do not want to admit it.”_

Walter would have brushed off the speech. The troll was long-winded at best and this was just another one of those instances where he tried to use words to sway an opponent. But there was a noise in the background. A small, near silent noise that had caught his attention above anything else. It was a small whine, near animalistic in sound and so full of pain that the device in Walter’s hand felt like it was radiating the emotion.

That small noise was Jim.

“...let me speak to the boy.” He said sternly. It wasn’t a request.

There was shuffling on the other end as the troll moved across whatever room they were in, speaking in muffled tones.

_“Hello?”_

The timid, feverish voice caught Walter off guard.

“Young Atlas, are you okay?”

There was a shaky huff on the other end. _“I would give anything to say yes right now, but honestly? No. I’m not.”_

Walter had never heard Jim so...fragile before. Even during battle, when Strickler still begrudgingly worked under Bular, Jim had never allowed such emotions to show. He was always a calm, level-headed boy. His anger and protectiveness could get the best of him at times, but he was not weak.

To hear the teen on the verge of tears, and so obviously in pain on the other end, swayed Walter’s mindset in the slightest.

“Jim, what is it that’s upsetting you?”

_“Blinky already told you, but honestly it doesn't surprise me that you didn't listen.”_ The boy snapped back suddenly, feverish anger radiating in his voice.

Walter almost snapped at the boy for his tone, but bit it back. He turned around and glanced at Barbara, who was checking a text on her phone.

He sighed. Jim was obviously in pain. And if they believed that he truly was experiencing Trollish Depersonalization…

“I will get the Grave Sand for you. But, I will require safe passage down into Trollmarket. I am not willing to let it out of my possession.”

There was a relieved sigh from the other end, and Walter could visualize Jim slumping in relief.

_“Thanks, Strickler.”_

Walter couldn’t help the fond smirk the crept onto his face. “Of course, Young Atlas. I will be there in half an hour.”

He hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket. He brushed a hand through his hair, before turning and walking back to Barbara.

“I hate to cut this evening short, but something’s come up and I must assist my boss with something.”

Barbara adjusted her glasses, a look of mild disappointment crossing her beautiful features. “It’s fine, you can’t control when work needs you.” She added in slight humor.

Walter chuckled, pulling out forty dollars and handing it to his date. “Still, I’ll pay for dinner.” He compromised, slipping the bills into her hands.

“A true gentleman as always, Walt.” Barbara joked, standing up briefly and kissing him on the cheek. “Call me when you get home safely.”

“Of course.” The man answered fondly, smiling. “I will see you later, Barbara.”

“See you.” The woman replied, flashing an equally stunning smile.

Stricklander held onto that smile as he climbed into his car. Barbara Lake was so beautifully perfect for a human. He was falling into her web by falling in love with her. His affections would only lead to his demise.

But god, that smile.

If she was to be his death, he would die happy.


	3. The Chapter where Jim Finally Transforms for Those who Just Want the Body Angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strickler brings the Grave Sand to Trollmarket. It has some unforseen *cough angsty cough* results. Don't do Grave Sand, Kids.
> 
> Viva La on with the story!

Toby and Arrrgh were basking in the twilight under Arcadia Bridge when Strickler arrived. They were the ones who were supposed to escort the changeling through Trollmarket. The man had a can of coffee grinds under his right arm, gripping it in a protective manner.

“Yo, Strickler, we asked for Grave Sand, not coffee.” Toby deadpanned, glancing at the can in a mixture of disdain and amusement.

Strickler rolled his eyes in equal disdain. “I do not need your snarky remarks Tobias. This substance is equivalent to that of heroin or meth. I would rather not be arrested for having a jar of suspicious substance in plain sight.”

Toby just shrugged as Arrrgh carved a half-circle into the wall with a horngazel. “Whatever. Let’s just go.”

“Blinky said they move Jim to Vendel’s clinic.” Arrrgh said as the wall opened up, “Heartstone good for Jim. Eases pain.”

“Okay, so I guess we’re taking you to the Heartstone, then.” Toby said, leading Strickler into the tunnel.

Strickler simply nodded, gazing around the luminescent cave. The last time he had been here was when he and Barbara were dying, right before Angor Rot attacked Trollmarket.

It was a lot more fascinating to look at now that his life wasn’t in danger.

The small group was more or less ignored as they made their way to the Heartstone. Strickler was given a few dirty looks from passing trolls, but no one dared to speak their thoughts out loud. Arrrgh was highly respected among the residents of Trollmarket. If he was escorting something even as ‘lowly’ as an Impure, then they wouldn’t dare question it.

They made it to the Heartstone a few minutes later, and were ushered into the middle of it, where Jim was leaning against Claire, seemingly incapacitated to do anything else besides lay there.

“Good, you’re here.” Blinky greeted hastily, bustling over to Strickler, “I trust you have brought the Grave Sand?”

Stricklander presented the can in his possession, holding it close to himself to let the troll know that he did not intend on letting him handle it.

The changeling’s stinginess seemed only to bother Blinky for a moment or two. He grazed past the action, and instead turned to present Jim, who had at least realized that the three had arrived.

His gaze was bleary and feverish. Bags darkened his eyes and his skin had turned a disgusting shade of flushed pale peach and a nauseous green.

“He’s gotten worse!” Toby stressed, worry evident in his voice.

“I’m afraid he has.” Blinky confirmed, features melding into an expression of helplessness. He turned towards Stricklander, who was studying Jim with a calculating stare. “I am praying this works, if not, I’m afraid I don’t know what else to do.”

Strickler simply nodded, walking up to Jim and Claire. He kneeled, watching as Jim grimaced due to some internal dilemma.

He was shivering and drenched in sweat. His brow furrowed in the tell tale sign of pain. His lip quivered in restrained emotion.

Walter wasn’t focused on those pressing details, however.

Jim’s eyes.

It was a tiny, minuscule, near invisible detail. If Strickler hadn’t known what he was looking for, he would have missed it. His breath hitched.

The sky blue of the boy’s eyes was flickering. Like a lightbulb that was almost about to burn out, amber-yellow and blood-red replaced the normal orbs every few seconds. It never lasted longer than a millisecond at a time—for the untrained eye, it would simply look like a blur of colors that could be mistaken for lighting illusions.

Dear god. Jim was a hybrid, an impure Impure. He was experiencing an extreme bout of Trollish Depersonalization due to the inability to shift.

Strickler was taken aback at the sudden protective fear he felt for the boy. Jim would die if he couldn’t transform soon.

He sat back on his heels, bringing the can to rest on his right knee. The man unscrewed the top, and carefully scooped a handful of the inky purple substance.

“Young Atlas, I’m going to waft this in your direction.” Walter explained, making sure he kept eye contact with the half conscious teen. “I need you to breathe it in. And Ms. Nuñez, please, cover your mouth and nose. Grave Sand is very dangerous, and I do not wish to have a human exposed to it.”

Claire nodded for the both of them, bringing the collar of her turtleneck up to cover her mouth and nose. Walter waited until he was sure she would not inhale any, before blowing a bit of the substance in Jim’s direction.

The Trollhunter’s immediate reaction when the sand entered his system was a harsh coughing fit that hurt his chest. There was a strange tingling sensation that spread from his lungs to the rest of his body shortly afterwards.

Jim shivered at the feeling, and looked up at Strickler, wanting to ask if the sensation was normal. Even if he somehow mustered the energy to get his voice to work, the sand in his body finally seemed to take effect and left him incapable of doing so.

The original cool pins-and-needles feeling seemed to speed up, and Jim was taken aback at the sensation. He let out an audible gasp as the sand started to work.

It felt similar to a sand bath—or what Jim assumed a sand bath felt like. The substance started scrubbing away at the discomfort, chipping at the uncomfortable wetsuit of flesh surrounding him piece by piece. Jim caved into the feeling, welcoming the sensation as it worked.

The boy went slack against Claire, letting out a long, relieved sigh. Somewhere amidst the figurative shifting of sand, Jim heard Blinky fussing about his eyes, but he didn’t care to press on the matter. True, normally he would be weirded out that he basically had someone’s corpse inside his body, but the relief it brought sent him on a high he couldn’t compare anything to.

The sand worked at Jim’s body for five minutes.

Walter watched as thirty seconds into the process, Jim’s eyes finally lit up with the crimson-amber colors of a changeling, bringing with them an expression of alleviation. Blinky made an astounded comment about it, but neither Jim nor Walter paid him any mind.

The boy continued to relax, bit by bit as the sand worked its magic, and Strickler thought the worst of the situation was over.

And then the world turned to hell again.

The sand stopped too soon. Jim didn’t want to recognize it was coming to an end, and realized only after the buzzing had stopped, leaving him back with his notably thinner, but still very suffocating body.

The boy choked on a cry as he jerked, trying to grasp ahold of the feeling again so that it could come back and envelop him in its comforting embrace, but to no avail.

God, how could they do this to him? How could they bring him so close to relief, only to yank it out of his grasp before he could taste it?

Jim whimpered, vaguely registering that his companions were starting to frantically bustle around.

He felt like he was being held underwater, drowning, while fresh air was a centimeter too far away.

It was even worse than before because he was almost there. He was there and then he was yanked back by some cruel fate. It wasn’t fair!

Strickler jumped as Jim let out a hoarse scream, jerking as if he were trying to reach out for something.

“I didn’t work!” He cried, tongue responding before his brain could process the situation.

Tobias jumped forward to help Claire restrain his best friend, whom was thrashing like an abused animal in the wake of the Grave Sand’s effects.

“How could it not have worked?” Toby cried, voice cracking as Jim let out an animalistic sob.

Walter shook his head helplessly, watching as the Trollhunter continued to resolve into a mess of angry, betrayed tears and agonizing screams that couldn’t have belonged to a human.

“The Grave Sand must have only unlocked Jim’s ability to transform!” Strickler choked, subconsciously slipping into his troll form. He had dealt with a couple changelings who had gone insane before, and if Jim were to break free from the teens’ grip, he would prefer to be in a sturdier form.

“Well then, how do we get him to trigger the change?!” Blinky asked frantically.

“I—don’t know!” Walter admitted, wincing as Jim let out another sob, “I have never dealt with a half-breed before!“

Jim managed to wrench free then, lunging towards the can of Grave Sand that was still in Strickler’s hand. The man braced for the impact, only to have Arrrgh jump between them, grabbing the boy with a tender but firm hold.

The teen let out a horrendous wail of resentment, and attempted to claw free of the brute’s grasp, but to no avail. His golden eyes were clouded with tears as he bared his teeth. Strickler realized why the actions were so unsettling to him. Jim was acting Trollish due to his Trollish half, but the form itself was not at the surface. Seeing a human child act like a feral changeling was unnatural, and it made Walter want to pinch himself and wake up from the pitiful scene.

“We need a Gaggletack, fast!” He shrieked, the idea popping into his head. The others in the room gave him purplexed looks. He brushed them off.

“Jim would logically be his own familiar!” The man exclaimed, “Because both the changeling and the familiar are in the same body, in the same dimension, Jim will not be able to transform on his own! This is not a matter of will, it is a matter of physics.”

“And a Gaggletack draws out the true form of a changeling no matter what form!” Blinky finished, six eyes glancing at Jim in sorrow as the boy let out another animalistic screech.

“Miss Claire!” He addressed, turning to the Latino, “in my shop there is a Gaggletack on the second shelf to the left, run and get it.”

“On it.” The girl stated, immediately sprinting out of the room.

The minutes Claire was gone were a blur of cries, screams, and unheard words of comfort.

The girl rushed back in, panting and presenting the horseshoe in her right hand.

“Take it!” She wheezed, doubling over as Blinky took the iron device from her grasp.

Arrrgh managed to lower the struggling Jim to Blinky’s level as the troll approached. The boy let out an ear-piercing shriek again, attempting to crawl away from the device. His state wasn’t allowing Jim to notice that the Gaggletack would only serve as a form of help.

“Master Jim, you need to let us assist you!” Blinky tried to urge. The trollhunter did nothing but growl and snap at him.

Blinky flinched at the action, but pressed on, moving the horseshoe closer to Jim’s left arm. The boy struggled with more and more vigor the closer it got to his exposed skin, letting out a mixture of screams and sobs that would make Walter think he was being tortured if he wasn’t seeing what was truly happening.

It was fast.

Skin touched iron, a hot, bluish flash blinded the group for a few seconds.

And then there was silence.


	4. Jim The Blue Boi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worst of the Night is over...now the group has to figure out what to do next
> 
> Viva La on With the story!

Walter blinked a few times as his pupils dilated to normal size again. He looked upon the scene in front of him.

Arrrgh was cradling a frozen Jim in his arms. The boy was wide-eyed, now-blue-again eyes staring at nothing as he adjusted to the change in his body.

It was like he finally pushed through that last centimeter of water and took a giant gulp of pure oxygen. He felt like crying—but not the agonized crying he had been doing, some relieved, exhausted crying that only came after a hard struggle.

The pain was gone. The wrongness had disappeared. The suffocation had melted away.

Strickler watched as Jim let out a tiny hiccup of alleviation, followed by a slight cough and sniffle, before slumping in exhaustion, finally able to let all the tension and bad feelings leave his body.

Strickler heard Blinky sigh, letting the Gaggletack drop to his side. “There we go.” The troll muttered in relief. Whether it was to himself or to Jim, Stricklander didn’t know.

Jim was losing consciousness by now, eyes slumping and head nodding as his body’s exhausted state finally took over. With nothing else to do but watch, Walter couldn’t help but take in the boy’s new form.

He was decidedly…human-looking, the man decided. Must be the result of being a half-breed. Of course, he did still have quite a few troll features in him. He had the same grey-blue hue to his skin as Blinky did, although it did seem to be a shade or two darker than his mentor’s.

Not much had changed in the boy anatomy-wise. His father must have been a stealth-based troll, because Jim was still relatively the same height, and still as scrawny as he was in human form. He had two pale, grey-ish horns poking out amidst the raven mess that was his hair, and his ears were elongated in the typical manner most trolls had.

He had a set of fangs along his top jaw that reminded Walter somewhat of a wild cat, and his eyes remained relatively unchanged spare the pupil, which had elongated and slit in the typical changeling trait.

The biggest change the boy would probably need to get used to was the tail. It was slim and plain, made for balance and stealth.

“Oh, wow.” Toby choked out, not knowing what else to say.

Jim of course, didn’t hear his friend as he was already unconscious, breathing deeply and evenly as he slept.

Blinky let out another resigned sigh, rubbing his face with a hand. “Well it’s over now.” He turned to Claire, who was examining Jim’s horns in the wonder. “Claire, we must let Master Jim rest. He’s been through quite a lot today.”

The girl reluctantly retracted her hands from Jim’s hair, letting them fall to her sides.

The small group decided to make their way back to Blinky’s library. It was quiet and secluded, and there was some space so that Jim could sleep somewhat comfortably.

Arrrgh set the half-breed down onto said space in a tender manner that his hulking mass seemed incapable of producing.

Toby proceeded to cover his best friend up with a blanket that had taken up residence in the library sometime in the months Jim had been Trollhunter. The teen continued to breathe softly, unaware of the layer on top of him.

Everyone more or less slumped onto anything that would support their weight as their bodies finally realized they could relax. Claire checked her phone tiredly, half-lidded eyes glazing at the screen. She suddenly jumped, cursing and suddenly digging around in her bag for something.

“Crap! It’s 10:50!” She exclaimed, pulling out Angor Rot’s old staff. “My parents are gonna kill me!”

Blinky got up to assist her with her backpack. “Ah yes, I would advise both you and Tobias head on home, Ms. Claire.” He agreed.

“But what about Jimbo?” Toby fretted, glancing at the sleeping form in question.

“The adults will figure that out.” Blinky hushed, gently patting the boy’s shoulder. “You two need to prepare for school tomorrow.”

“M’kay…” Tobias grumbled, vocally straining his dislike of the situation.

Claire strode up next to him. “C’mon, T.P. I’ll teleport us to your house first.” She offered, opening a shadow portal as she did so.

“How are you gonna do that? You need an emotional anchor to get us there.”

Claire rolled her eyes, chuckling a bit.

“Your Nana’s cookies are the only emotional anchor I need.”

Toby shot a finger gun at her in agreement. “Can’t argue with that.” He smiled, jumping into the vortex.

“Ms. Claire, please alert Draal on the situation.” Blinky chimed in. “We do not need him to cause any casualties due to his ignorance as to Master Jim’s whereabouts.”

Claire nodded, giving a thumbs up before jumping into the portal.

The rift closed immediately after she entered, leaving only Arrrgh, Blinky, and Walter with Jim. Not-Enrique had departed not long after they had moved Jim to the Heartstone.

“What are we to do with Young Atlas?” Walter questioned after a minute or two of silence. “Or Barbara, for that matter? She is probably very nervous at Jim’s absence.”

Blinky hummed in agreement, stroking his chin and glancing at his trainee every moment or two. “I do believe we will have to call Master Jim in sick tomorrow or school. He’s been through quite a traumatic experience today and I’m sure his body will need more than a night’s rest to recover.”

Stricklander growled, baring his teeth. “Yes, Thank you for pointing out the obvious, but what of Jim’s mother? Barbara will be frantic and upset at Jim even if we somehow manage to get him coherent and back in human form before midnight!”

“We could tell her the truth.” Arrrgh reminded, stating the simplest and morally correct, yet most unstable alternative.

Walter felt his heart drop. He didn’t think he could handle Barbara giving him that look of disgust again. It shattered his heart the first time alone.

However he...couldn’t bring himself to argue against the Kruberan. Barbara was a reasonable woman. That was one of the reasons he loved her so much. Back when they had been attacked by Angor Rot, she had had a good reason to hate him back then. He had magically bonded their fates, and was still plotting to kill Jim.

Now, however…

Maybe if her memory loss remained true, Walter wouldn’t have to reveal his terrible past to her once again. They could focus on the present, and their future.

“Normally I would follow Master Jim’s wishes to keep his mother out of this, but seeing as I can come up with no better solution…” Blinky trailed off, running a hand through his hair and tugging on a horn. “I do not want to risk using the Gaggletack right now because I feel that Jim’s body needs time to process.”

Stricklander spoke up. “I do believe giving Atlas’ troll form a day or two to relax will be in his best interest. If he is to transform again, I say let his body calm down first.” He hesitated, “Maybe we wait a bit longer before we do anything as drastic as bringing Barbara into this. If we haven’t come up with anything by midnight, then I will agree to Arrrgh’s suggestion.”

Blinky nodded, crossing all four of his arms. “No later than midnight.” He confirmed.

And so the two trolls and one changeling brainstormed for 65 minutes straight. In hindsight, they probably could have come up with an alternative, but their brains were fried from the events that had taken place earlier, and their minds were torn from their musings every now and then by Jim.

The boy kept drifting in and out of consciousness. Any time he would open his eyes, he would murmur and stretch. He would occasionally roll over, but his mind was too tired to fully comprehend what was happening. Blue eyes would blink around the room in a hazy gaze for a few minutes, before Jim’s exhausted body pulled him back to sleep.

So by the time the clock struck 11:57, the three started to resign, packing away the strewn parts of a coverup, and instead mentally preparing themselves for the treacherous events ahead.

Walter didn’t know what he was more scared of: Barbara’s revelation about trolls and what he was, or Jim’s realization that his mother was in the middle of his secret life once again.

The changeling sighed, rubbing his eyes and standing up. “I think our best shot is to have me do most of the introductions…” he suggested.

Blinky nodded. “I would do it myself, but Dr. Lake has only seen my human form of a few moons ago. I doubt she would recognize me—or allow me enough time to speak before attacking.”

Walter couldn’t help but snort at the thought. His girlfriend’s talent at self-defense was quite intense. He would say it was a gift, but considering he’s been on the brunt end of her attacks before…

Intense was the best adjective.

Arrrgh stretched, and proceeded to pick Jim up once again. The Trollhunter squirmed and mumbled a bit at the movement, but seemed mostly undisturbed at the action, and continued to sleep.

* * *

 

It was 12:12 by the time the three reached Jim’s house. Walter walked up the porch as Blinky and Arrrgh snuck around to the backyard. He stood outside the door for significant time, mustering the courage to knock.

His knuckles must have decided to grow a pair for him because they hit the wooden frame without his consent.

Barbara was quick to answer the door, practically wrenching it off its hinges as it swung open. Her cobalt orbs radiated surprise as she found her boyfriend in front of her.

“Walt? What are you—I’ve called and texted you like a hundred times—Jim too I…” She trailed off, jumping from one thought to another, showing the symptoms of a mother on the edge.

Crap. Had she been calling him? He must not get good service down in Trollmarket.

“I know, I’m sorry. My phone died, and I came over as soon as I saw them.” He comforted, gently clasping her shoulders and pulling on a facade. “What’s going on?”

Barbara sighed, swallowing and scrubbing at her eyes. “Jim’s not answering my texts or calls and I— the school said he was acting sick all day and Toby walked home alone tonight. I saw him. He’s never alone, Walt and I just—“ she let out a shuddering breath, leaning into her boyfriend’s embrace.

Walter immediately wrapped his arms around her, pulling her frame close to his.

“...It will be alright.” He soothed, planting a kiss to the top of her head.

How on earth was he going to do this?


	5. In Which Strickler Needs a Drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walter struggles with his fears as he tries to tell Barbara what happened
> 
> viva la on with the story

The couple stayed in each others' arms for a few minutes, before Barbara sniffled, pulling back. “Ah, god I’m sorry. It’s 12:30 in the morning and you probably want to be asleep right now I just...I know something’s wrong. I can feel it.

Strickler pushed down the feeling of guilt in his throat, and instead tried to form the sentences he needed to say to her in his head.

Barbara started pacing. “God, that kid is gonna be so grounded when he gets back. Why does he think he can just do whatever the hell he wants without telling me?” She exclaimed, combing her fingers through her hair.

Walter bit his lip, listening to her footsteps for a few minutes. He knew Arrrgh and Blinky were waiting for his O.K. in the backyard, and that he didn’t have all night, but god, it was really hard to do.

“Barbara I…” He trailed off as she turned her gaze towards him. His tongue was suddenly a strip of cardboard.

“Walt are you okay?” Barbara asked, concerned at the way her boyfriend was currently acting.

Walter shifted his gaze around the hall, trying to think of what he needed to say. “I—I...need a drink.” He stuttered, which wasn’t inherently untrue. He definitely needed some alcohol in his system after tonight.

“Do you happen to have any here?” He asked, walking into the kitchen and pulling open the pantry, locating the bottle of liquor on the top shelf.

Barbara seemed perplexed for a moment, but didn’t seem too upset at the action. She instead pulled out two shot glasses as Walter turned around.

“Walt, when I called you over I expected you to be comforting me.” She said a bit bitterly, but her voice had a mixed undertone of humor and concern in it. “Is something wrong?”

The changeling poured some tequila into the two shot glasses as he hastily tried to think of something to say. He couldn’t come up with anything, and instead opted to down the first shot.

He set it down with a clang on the counter and spoke through the slight burn. “Yes. There is something wrong. I’m truly sorry, Barbara. I know you’re stressing about Jim’s absence, and here I am preoccupied with my own predicament…”

Barbara was shaking her head before he had even finished his sentence. “No no, Walt. It’s fine. I’m not going to be upset at you for being stressed out.” She cracked a faint smile from behind worried lips. “At least we can be anxious together.”

Yeah….together.

Walt held on to that word like a lifeline in a somewhat shameful way. He had never relied on anyone especially a fleshbag in his entire life as much as he did Barbara. Even his familiar’s parents—the ones that raised him as their own because that’s what he was to them—the ones that fed and clothed and kissed him goodnight and taught him how to read and write.

The ones who he cut off when he was the legal human age to live on his own so that he could dedicate his full time to the Janice Order. The ones that frantically tried to contact him during holidays through letters that would pile up in a trash bin, unopened, because that’s what was expected of changelings once they were old enough to take on jobs. The parents of the familiars were just a temporary support system so that the changelings could learn how to blend into the human’s society.

They were the parents that grew old and grey without a child to come visit them once. The couple that neighbors either pitied or criticized without an inbetween. A constant debate of whether it was the son’s or the parents’ fault that the child had severed ties and never looked back.

And now, looking at his girlfriend’s worried expression—the way she bit her thumb and drummed her foot against the floor and how her crystal orbs darted to the front door in a sick mixture of hope, fear, and anger—Walter could only picture his familiar’s parents (technically his parents in every name but biological) in the same stance for the last decades of their lives.

Stricklander wouldn’t have cared in the past—in fact, it was drilled in his mind that it was weak to care. Any changeling that developed a connection to any fleshbag was considered not only weak-minded, but traitorous to Gunmar. Those that did show affection to humans were…taken care of.

That was what sparked the idea in Strickler’s mind that following Gunmar wasn’t in changelings’ best interests.

He only wished he was able to come to that conclusion before the humans that raised him had passed.

And now here he was in the present, watching the woman he loved worry about her son, who was the exact product of a changeling betraying the Gumm-Gumm army.

Any other time, Walter’s inner teacher would have marveled at the symbolism—especially since the boy was now the Trollhunter, but the changeling had more important matters to address.

He was not about to let the love of his life feel the same pain of abandonment he inflicted on his parents again.

He downed another shot.

“Barbara, I...do you believe in trolls?”

“...what?”

Honestly he didn’t know what else he expected her to say.

He sighed again, tinkering with the shot glass in his hand. “Trolls. Do you believe in them?”

Barbara glanced to the side, as if she was looking for some hidden camera. “Wh...what does this have to do with anything, Walt?”

She glanced down at the liquor on the table as the changeling answered. “I just need to know, so I know the best way to approach this…”

“Approach what—Walter are you drunk?? you’ve only had two shots.” The woman had an undertone of anger growing in her voice. Walter couldn't blame her, exactly, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t exasperate him.

“Can you please just—“

“No, Walter! I don’t believe in fucking fairytales!” The woman exclaimed, anger finally slipping through. She slammed her hands on the counter in anger, jabbing a finger at the front door.

“My son is out there, not answering my texts or calls, and I call you over here expecting to have some comfort from my boyfriend, and instead all he wants to do is get drunk and talk about—mythical creatures?!” She scoffed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. She muttered to herself angrily for a moment or two.

“You know what? I think you should leave.” She said after a minute of silence. Walter jolted at the statement.

“Barbara I’m truly sorry, I just—“

“Walter, go home.”

“If you would just let me explain—“

“I don’t want to hear you say anything!” She exclaimed, opening the front door harshly, “I want you to go home and rest before thing escalates more than it already has.”

“But you’re not listening to me!” Walter pressed, standing in front of her, “Listen, I understand that you are tired and that what I’m asking doesn’t make sense, but you need to realize that I’m trying to help you!”

He expected her to push back at him; to tell him that he was drunk or insane, or hell, even insensitive, but he didn’t expect her to just—stare at him.

Anger and hurt danced across her features as they locked eyes, which turned into confusion as her blue orbs held his in a limbo. It was so much worse than her biting back with her silver tongue, because Walter knew how to banter in excelated situations.

He just didn’t know how to win when silence was his opponent.

But it was when the fear slowly started creeping up Barbara’s face that Strickler felt the faint heat-sensation his eyes fell under when their true colors bled through his glamour.

The yellow and crimson orbs light reflected in Barbara’s as she studied him in a concoction of awe and wariness.

“Walter wh-what’s wrong with your…”

She trailed off, voice cracking as her breath caught in her chest. Walter watched as the hand she was holding the door handle with tightened in uncertainty.

The changeling sighed, blinking and looking down at his feet. He gently reached for the door frame, and Barbara was too stunned (or too scared, god forbid) to protest. The door closed with a quiet click.

He then replaced the wood of the door with the hand of his girlfriend, squeezing it.

“Barbara I—I’m sorry, I will explain everything later, but right now all you need to know is that Jim is outside with his mentors; and he just needs his mother right now.”

He hesitated as Barbara’s eyes darted back and forth between him and the back door, which was just visible down the hall.

“And no matter what happens—whatever you think of me after this, please know that my love for you is my most prized possession.”

The woman stood for a full thirty seconds, hand hanging limp in her boyfriend’s tentative grasp as she suffered an inner dilemma.

Her doctor’s side was battling with her mother’s side between wanting to know what her boyfriend was and what he was talking about; and then when she finally decided that finding out what he was babbling about was more important, she had another predicament over whether to squeeze Jim until he pops, or ground him until he finishes college.

She gave one final look into Walter’s eyes, The now-green-again circles looking at her nervously.

Wordlessly, she pulled her hands away from his grasp.

She took one step, then another, and before she knew it she had run to the back door and yanked it open so hard, it almost flew off its hinges.

Not that she cared, however, she was too busy taking in the three people in her backyard.


	6. In which Barbara Discovers Where Left Socks Disappear to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara struggles with the realization that Jim is not only the Trollhunter, but that her boyfriend has lied to her about virtually everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back after...what, a BUNCH of months....
> 
> Sorry Y'all, but I promise I'm not done with this story yet XD I still have a couple more chapters planned for this baby :)
> 
> Also, sorry if Strickler is a bit OOC- I'm still getting used to writing him lol
> 
> anywho, viva la on with the story!

So.

Trolls exist.

And changelings. They exist too.

Barbara took a deep breath through her nose, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out shakily through her mouth.

She was not going to scream. Jim was still sleeping.

“So….James was a…”

“Changeling, yes, Doctor Lake.”

She recognized Mr. Blinky’s voice, but did not recognize the troll of which the voice came from.

“And you are…”

“Not a changeling, but a troll subject to the effects of a temporary potion.” He answered again, ever so patient.

Okay. So magic existed, too.

She was not expecting this. At all.

She turned to her boyfriend, who had been keeping a tentative distance through the duration of the last hour.

“And you….aren’t human.”

She noticed the slightest wince in his stature.

“Let’s just say you...have a type.” The changeling said, the undertones of an attempted joke lacing the air.

She stared at Walt for a moment. Her eyes flickered from him to Mr. Blinky to the biggest troll in the room—the one who was still holding her son with the tenderness of a parent as she prompted to have a mental breakdown.

And her boy. Her baby boy. The one that wailed as she held him for the first time because she was crying herself, and the one she comforted when he fell off his bike when he was first learning how to ride, and the same one who gave her goodnight kisses up until he was thirteen and decided hugging was “less cringy”.

The one she had scolded on multiple occasions for tracking mud into the house after playing in the rain with Toby, or for staying up too late playing video games or reading graphic novels or watching movies that were maybe just a bit too scary.

Although she would secretly enjoy that last one because they would cause him to sneak into her bed during the night and scare her with his cold little feet, but then he’d snuggle close to her and the cold would be replaced with a comfy warmth and they’d just hold each other and listen to the air conditioning as it rumbled through the house until they both drifted off.

And now here he was, blue with horns and fangs and a goddamned tail and all she could see was the same five-year-old that brought her a slice of his leftover birthday cake two days after his fifth birthday because the realization that James had actually left had hit her full force and she was sobbing on the stairs.

The woman choked on a sob back in the present, sitting up on the couch she was on and pushing her glasses up onto her forehead. She quickly scrubbed away her tears with the palms of her hands and took a deep breath.

Blinky’s voice radiated hesitantly. “Doctor Lake, if I may—.”

“No, no. Please just….we can talk about this later. Right now I…” She trailed off, finally getting to her feet and grabbing a tissue to blow her nose, “I just need to take care of Jim right now.”

The troll looked like he wanted to say more, but he reluctantly closed his mouth and nodded. “Yes, Master Jim’s health is the most important thing right now.”

The title Blinky had given her son felt weird to her ears, but Barbara only nodded emptily as she approached the troll that held Jim. As if he could read her mind, the giant gently presented Jim to her, and she paused for a second as her brain processed what to do next.

She combed a hand through his hair, stroking raven locks and cupping his cheek. Jim sighed at the sensation, leaning into the touch slightly as he continued to sleep.

Barbara took in a shaky breath through her nose as she rubbed her thumb over the stony texture of his cheek. He was warm—the same temperature as a healthy human being. For some reason she expected the stony skin to be cold, so feeling the sensation sent a weird wave of relief through her body.

“He didn’t injure himself today, did he?” She asked.

Blinky shifted. “He accidentally scratched himself previously, but it was nothing serious and easy to treat.” He answered, gesturing to the boy’s left arm, where a band-aid had taken refuge in the crook of his elbow.

“Other than that, I do not think any other injuries were acquired during the previous hours.” Blinky finished, six eyes flickering as he watched Barbara carefully.

The doctor sighed, eyes gazing over Jim for what seemed like the millionth time as she contemplated what to do next.

“Okay. It seems like his body is just exhausted. All he should need is a long rest. I’ll call him in sick from school tomorrow and…” she hesitated, glancing uncertainty at the three beings in her living room.

“Would you guys mind...staying here for the rest of the night? I don’t know anything about troll health, and since Jim is a...changeling...I would like some help figuring out what to do.”

Walter seemed surprised at her request. A flash of hope struck across his (fake human…?) features for a split second, no doubt worrying about the state of their relationship. “Are you entirely sure you would like us to stay…?” He asked, leaning tentatively towards Barbara, yearning to embrace her.

She shot him a cold but not necessarily angry glare. She felt betrayed by him, sure, after all it’s not every day you find out that your boyfriend is some otherworldly stone-creature and the only form she had known of his—the one that she had been intimate with—was a ruse. But she could understand his...concerns.

But why was he acting like he was hiding something from her?

Barbara shook her head. She couldn’t dwindle on these thoughts right now.

“I really would rather you go—all of you go.” She emphasized, “but like I said I…” she trailed off.

“I have no idea what I’m doing. Or how to handle this, if I’m completely honest.”

There was a short silence as Barbara looked down at the floor, too tired and confused to look anywhere else.

Finally Blinky responded. “As much as I wish we could stay and make sure Master Jim is okay, Dr. Lake, Arrrgh and I have to be back in Trollmarket before sunrise. We have responsibilities we must attend to as well.” The blue troll hesitated before gesturing to Walter. “We trolls know very little about changelings as it is. Stricklander will be your best companion to make sure Master Jim makes a full recovery.” He advised.

Walter nodded, hands clasped behind his back. “Yes, we are very…reserved, when it comes to other species discovering our weaknesses, Barbara. I would undoubtedly stay to assist with Jim’s recovery, if you would allow me to.”

Barbara bit her lip, chewing it maybe just a bit too hard as she thought…

“I would...like that.” She finally choked out. Walter seemed to all but melt in relief at her response. She couldn’t bring herself to make total eye contact with him. “Um, Blinky,” she hesitated, flashing an uncertain glance at the troll, “when will you be back here?”

“Arrrgh and I will be back as soon as we possibly can—you need not to worry about any trouble, Draal has sworn an oath to protect Master Jim and his family till his dying breath.”

She had been told of the troll knight-or-whatever-he-was that had apparently been living in her basement, but they had yet to be introduced because he was apparently out at the moment.

Frankly, he was the last of her worries.

* * *

 

It was almost three in the morning by the time she and Walter had gotten Jim into bed. His clothes were ripped from what she could only assume were shifting bones and the development of his tail, and they had to cut them off of him.

And then they had the predicament of finding clothes that would fit him now...

They eventually settled on a too-large T-shirt and a larger pair of sweatpants.

Walter laid Jim into bed—as he was just a bit too heavy for Barbara to carry him—and Barbara brought his comforter up to tuck him in. Jim’s body seemed to instantly relax as it settled into the mattress. The familiar scent and the way the bed hugged his body like an old friend seemed to melt any subconscious anxieties the boy had. He let out a small sigh and snuggled into his pillow—a habit he had picked up when he was three.

Barbara gently brushed some stray strands of hair out of Jim’s eyes, fingers pressing his bangs against the top of his head. She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“It’ll be okay, Baby.” She whispered mostly to herself, before reaching up and drawing the curtains on Jim’s window closed. Walter told her that sunlight had no effect on their Troll Forms, but Jim’s eyes were probably going to be sensitive when he woke, and she didn’t want to put him through preventable pain.

Walter was holding the door for her as she turned to walk out. She flipped the light switch off, and sent a slight smile towards Walter in a nonverbal thanks.

Her boyfriend quietly shut the door behind her, keeping the knob twisted until the door was fully closed to not disturb Jim.

Barbara probably should have waited until he was done before she walked back downstairs, but her brain was fried and, quite frankly, she was still a bit wary of Walter. So she instead just trudged down to the living room and sunk onto the couch and turned on the TV to at least try and get her mind off the absolute mess her life had become in the past two hours.

The television was playing some rerun of some show that Jim watched more than she did, but she recognized the characters so she kept it on and glued her eyes to the screen.

But her mind was elsewhere and it kept on doing some deformed loop-de-loop between Jim and Walter and the discarded tequila bottle on the counter that she forgot to put up in her haste and then the slightly dirt-covered carpet that had shapes of footprints too big to be human in them, and then back to Jim again and around to the shot glasses that were maybe a bit too close to the edge of the counter _she should really clean that up as well as the dirt on the carpet_ and then Walter once more as he hesitated by the entrance to the living room and then she snapped onto that and the obvious guilt that radiated from his posture that made her want to scream and—

Walter carefully sat down next to her on the couch. She watched from the corner of her eye but didn’t make any effort to look at him.

There was an awkward silence. The TV illuminated the room in a hazy blue light as the plot unfolded on the show. Walter continued to watch her with some sort of melancholy guilt plastered on his face and body posture. The way he clasped his hands and hunched his shoulders a bit too stiffly compared to his usual suave stoicness—one of the things that made her fall for him in the first place— made Barbara feel guilty herself because part of a healthy relationship is being able to tell the other their fears without the worry of being judged and she just couldn’t stand that whatever he was hiding was enough to make _him_ of all people feel that way.

But it was his fault. She had no right to feel guilty but here she was torn between being furious at her boyfriend for lying about, well, _everything_ , and trying to keep it together well enough to keep the relationship going because damn it if she didn’t love him...

Fifteen minutes later her mouth moved and she was just as surprised as him as the words slipped out.

“Walt, what are you hiding from me?”

The man jumped in the way only he did. He was never one of rash actions. He glanced up at her, head tilting never so slightly. Apprehension glittered in his eyes as they flickered to the TV and back.

“In...what aspect are you asking, Barbara?”

“...I don’t know.” She answered truthfully, breath catching in her throat. Her eyes finally dragged over to him, and they locked gazes.

They stayed in that limbo for a few minutes. Barbara felt some terrible, weird form of anguish ignite in her chest.

“Walt, please…”

The man’s heart leapt at the betrayal in her voice. He finally let out a quiet sigh.

“Barbara, I—” He uncrossed his legs and turn to look directly at her. “I want to tell you everything. I truly do but I…”

He trailed off. Being lost for words was not a good look on him.

“I have not been a good person in my past, Barbara. To your race and your son least of all I…”

He took a deep breath, bouncing his closed fists on his knee slightly.

“I am afraid you will realize I do not deserve you. My past is hardly justified and I will not deny that I will try to do just that if I tell you. But I have changed my ways, I will truly admit to that only to you.” He emphasized, eyes finding hers and holding true.

“Most of my change has been for my own selfish nature—to make a better life for my kind that does not involve slavery to Gunmar, but...there is also a considerable amount that I have dedicated to you.”

He hesitantly reached out for her hand. When she didn’t flinch, he clasped it it and gave it a timid squeeze.

“I have done my best to make myself worthy of your love. If you would allow me to, I will lay out my life before you and obliterate all lies that have severed us for too long.”

Barbara swallowed the lump growing in her throat. She blinked away the welling tears in her eye and took a shaky breath. She pressed her lips together and subtly nodded her head.

“Okay.”

* * *

 

Five o’ clock came messily. Walter did not withhold any truth from her—well, any relevant truth from her.

That’s not to be said, he did answer any question she asked, no matter how off-topic.

Barbara was...surprisingly calm throughout the whole ordeal. She cried. Sobbed, even, but there was no screaming or yelling.

Maybe it was because she was tired, or in shock, or the fact that she didn’t want to wake Jim, but she just sat numbly as Walter recalled anything she asked him about.

He was nervous. Scared, timid. Even visibly disgusted at times, and some sick part of Barbara was glad at how ashamed he felt about his past because the things he had done were absolutely terrible.

He had plotted against the destruction of humanity. He bonded their fates magically so Jim couldn’t hurt him. He enslaved multiple beings. He didn’t hesitate to harm a mere child—her child—when he got in the way of his superior’s plans.

But goddamnit, Barbara was emphatic. And she loved him. So she couldn’t help but see that a lot of these actions were due to the way he was raised.

He was...created...with the intent to be used as a soldier. He was raised as such, and the only love he had known from childhood was that of his human caregivers. He knew right from wrong, obviously, but he was raised on the wrong side.

Which he had betrayed because he had realized just how terrible his leader was treating him and his species. And her...her love made him realize that there was more to life than just instigating war.

Walter had been watching her as she processed. There hadn’t been any words in quite a few minutes, and she didn’t have the energy to do much more besides stare at the fabric of the couch between them as she thought.

But he was patient with her, as always. So when she finally came to the conclusion that she should say something, she didn’t feel guilty about keeping him waiting.

And when she found that she couldn’t conjure anything to say, it wasn’t as hard as she was expecting it to be for her to scoot closer to him, and place her head on his chest.

Despite his nervous posture, Walter let out a huff of relief, and wrapped his arms around her. He stroked her hair as she placed a hand on his chest.

His heartbeat was steady, just as it had always been. She closed her eyes and listened to it and drank in his scent.

He smelled just as he always had. That achingly familiar scent that was always real.

This was real.

She took a shaky breath. He set his head on top of hers, fingers twirling delicately on her upper back.

She reveled in the sensation for a few minutes—feeling him breath and listening to his heartbeat and soaking up his warmth. When she finally spoke, it came with ease.

“If you ever go back to that mindset I hope you know that I will kick your ass.” She mumbled. Walter let out a small chuckle.

“I’m counting on it, my love.” He planted a kiss to the top of her head, “Like I mentioned before, your love is my most prized possession. I would rather die before I betray your trust again.”

Barbara hummed, suddenly growing tired as Walter held her. The sky outside was just starting to lighten with the promise of daytime on the horizon, and the sudden realization that she had stayed up throughout the night hit Barbara full-force. The familiar lull of sleep that she only felt after an overnight shift at work beckoned at her.

And she greeted it.

* * *

 

Walter was pulled out of his musings by Draal. The troll had come back into the house as the first crack of sunlight slit through the window. Claire must have filled him in on Jim’s predicament, because he was oddly civil with Stricklander. Whether it was out of respect of the revelation of Jim’s new identity, or because Barbara was currently sleeping, Strickler didn’t know, but the troll kept his voice low and calm.

They exchanged a few words before the troll headed back down to the basement, closing the door softly behind him. Walter stared at the door for a minute or two, before directing his gaze back to Barbara.

He still held her firmly against his chest. There was some anxious part of him that was fearing that she would wake up furious at him. Or even worse, wake up not trusting him at all…

He had just told her more about his life than any other person knew. His instincts were screaming at him to disappear, to erase her memory, to do anything to keep his deepest weaknesses away from the hands of the enemy—

But he stayed still. What was done was done, and there was no reversal. Walter trusted her, and he hoped that she would trust him once the sun fully rose and whatever twisted dream she might think this night was didn’t end.

He let out a shaky breath, and brushed a strand of hair out of her fluttering eyes.

He held her close, for fear that he may never be able to again.

He must have dozed off a bit himself, because the next thing he knew, Jim was calling his name, fuzzy confusion dripping off his tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boom, done :) This was honestly the hardest chapter to write so far, so hopefully I'll be able to upload the next chapter sooner.
> 
> Please review, leave a kudos, jump off a cliff (only if your friends do it first), bookmark, whatever. It sure would help my motivation for the next chapter!
> 
> Welp, until next time my lovlies ;)
> 
> ~LocalDragonHaunt


	7. Wakey Wakey Jim’s Blue and Shakey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim wakes up, and Strickler’s inner Dad takes over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all! I’m back :)
> 
> Do I have any notes...? Uh.... I don’t think so...
> 
> Anywho, viva la on with the story!

It took Jim way shorter to remember the events of last night than what he should have expected, in hindsight.

He was surprised at how calmly he recalled the events—or at least, he felt that he should be surprised, but he did have a bit of a predicament at the moment.

Like, for instance, why Blinky's library smelled almost too much like his room…

He cracked open an eye, and was given the suddenly terrifying sight of his untouched bedroom. The mixture of dread and relief that dropped into his gut sent him spiraling to his feet—which only resulted in a jarring pain that raked its way up his spine.

He gasped and grasped at his back in surprise, and all he could do was clench his teeth and wait for the pain to subside.

And when it did, he waited a minute more for fear that it would come back with the same intensity.

He let out a shaky breath, followed by a few more as he listened to the house.

He hadn't seen himself yet, but he had a sinking suspicion…

Jim remembered up to the Gaggletack. And that took place in the Heartstone. If he was in his house…

That meant someone had told his mom.

It was stupid, but he had a slight fear that his mom might have heard him wake, and that making any more noises would cause her to rush in and start…

What would she do?

Considering he was actually in his bed, she hadn't decided to disown him...but he was definitely going to be grounded.

Jim managed to catch a glimpse of his forearm. The blue hue unsettled him.

Yeah. Definitely going to be grounded.

The Trollhunter slowly straightened up. He expected pain in the rest of his body, but other than a slight stiffness and a somewhat fuzzy head, the only pain seemed to be in his spine...

He spared overloading his brain with details he didn't want to dwell on and instead glanced over at the clock on his nightstand. 10:03 a.m. He honestly expected that the bodily stress the transformation put on him would have made him sleep longer, but twelve hours was the longest he had slept in months, so he wasn't complaining.

Strangely, that realization sent a surge of energy through him. It wasn't nearly enough to be fully alert, but he was suddenly in a considerably better mood.

Jim sighed, and slowly straightened out, setting one foot carefully in front of the other as if he was treading on thin ice. He swayed a bit, but otherwise kept his balance. There was definitely something...new about his body, but he couldn't quite distinguish what it was amidst all of the, well, obvious differences.

He figured that he was going to see himself eventually anyways, so he might as well get the introduction over with.

So he headed to the bathroom, cracking the door to his bedroom open and poking his head out in apathy. He couldn't see his mom in her room, and he didn't know if that was a relief or not.

Be made his way to the bathroom as fast as he dared, and locked the door behind him.

Jim forced himself to breath for a minute or two-not for fear of what he was about to see, but just because he knew that whatever was in the mirror was...not human.

God, this sucked.

He steeled himself, eyes closed and hands grasping the sink like a lifeline.

He looked.

And he didn't...hate it. That's not to say that he liked it, either, but what was staring back in the mirror was surprisingly...humanoid.

What was obviously the most noticeable was his skin—or whatever his outer surface was now as it felt more like hardened leather, or very smooth stone. It was some shade of royal blue. He wasn't an artist, but he knew Claire would describe it as slightly more saturated than Blinky's stone.

Jim leaned forward, bringing his arm up closer to the mirror, fingers brushing over the skin intricately and somehow they trailed up to his face, where he spent a good minute or two poking and squishing his cheeks and nose and forehead because the what-would-be thinner skin seemed to mold more like clay and it was oddly satisfying.

Okay. Skin. Stone? His. His? He was too tired for this.

He could recognize himself. His facial features remained more or less unchanged, save for his ears, eyes, and teeth. All three features had sharpened and pointed in their own way that kind of sent it through Jim that he wasn't human anymore.

Or, more precisely, was never human in the first place. Fully human. Whatever.

After staring at his cat-eyes for a good minute or two (the slit pupils made his crystal gaze icier than usual and it put his still-waking-up brain in a bit of a trance), Jim poked his elongated canines with the pad of his thumb, testing their sharpness and his pain tolerance because if he had those things in his mouth, he wanted to know the amount of pain to expect if he accidentally cut his lips or gums with them.

Once he was satisfied with his face he grasped his horns firmly, giving them a testing tug and a few taps with his fingers, finding that they had the relatively same touch sensitivity as his fingernails.

Jim then hummed, tilting his head back and forth, before he turned his body to check out his side and back.

And immediately jumped when something caught in his peripheral vision.

It took him a minute to process what it was because well...it was just so absurd.

But his jolt had caused a smaller shockwave up his spine. And subsequently, down the new extension of his spine as well.

"Oh great. What the fuck. A tail. I have a tail." The Trollhunter sarcastically muttered. He stared at the new appendage for a moment or two, before stretching an arm behind himself and connecting his fingertips with his spine.

He trailed down to his tailbone, right where the base of his new appendage started, and then traced the new appendage down to the end.

He then did it a few more times, but with his back facing the mirror so he could visually connect his actions to his body.

His. That was his.

He could feel it. He could feel his hands on this appendage and it reacted just as normally as it would if it had been there his whole life.

Jim had half a mind to try and move it, but considering speed-walking caused pain just on its own, he decided against it.

He instead buried his face in his hands and scrubbed at his eyes—sleep was clinging to him, beckoning him to come back to bed now that the curiosity of his new form had faded, and he wanted nothing more than to do just that.

But he knew he would only lay in bed and stare at the ceiling, leaving nothing but his thoughts to induce his anxieties.

And he really didn't want to dissolve into a panic attack this early in the morning. Later. He could have an existential crisis later. Right now, he needed…

What did he need?

As if to answer, his stomach let out a grumble.

Jim nodded, almost agreeing with the noise.

He could go for some breakfast. Breakfast was good. It gave you energy. Energy keeps you alive.

So he opened the door, and started down the stairs.

And then he saw Strickler, and his name slipped out of his mouth before he even realized it.

The man jolted, head shooting towards him in a bout of adrenaline that indicated that he had been dozing. He stared at Jim for a moment, as if processing who he was, before he finally spoke.

"Young Atlas, what are you doing up?"

His voice was low and soft and Jim only just realized his mother was using Strickler as a pillow because of it. He inwardly winced. He really didn't want to wake her up.

"I uh…" Jim gestured vaguely at himself. "Got curious. Why are you here?"

"Your Mother asked that I stay." The man answered bluntly, eyes darting towards Barbara for a moment or two.

"Oh."

Jim stared at his mom in a weird mixture of apprehension and concern, biting his lip and wrinkling his nose slightly as the pang of his new fangs rang in his brain.

"Did you...tell her..?"

Strickler nodded, cautiously brushing a hand through his hair before maneuvering out from underneath her, laying her gently on the couch. "Yes. Blinkous and Arrrgh helped her come to terms with your and my heritage." He hesitated, before adding, "she does not yet remember the events of Angor Rot and Trollmarket, but I would not be surprised if those memories do not resurface soon enough."

Jim sent another wary glare towards the full-blooded changeling. "And did you tell her about…"

Strickler rolled his eyes, brushing his hands on the sides of his slacks before walking to the base of the stairs. "Yes, I have come clean to her. What I have said is not of your concern, but I have told her the truth."

Jim took a short breath. "Okay."

The Trollhunter worked his way down the remaining steps, and Strickler offered a limb of support. Jim begrudgingly took it, as he really would rather not face plant at the moment.

"How are you feeling?" Stricklander asked, arms pressing between Jim's shoulder blades as he gently guided him to the kitchen—he would rather be able to talk without worrying about waking up Barbara.

"I uh…" Jim trailed off, absent-mindlessly bringing his hand up to study it again. His brow furrowed as he thought. "I'm alright. I think. I mean, I'm kinda still waking up, but uh, I'm better than I thought I would be. It doesn't hurt that much."

He winced as he sat down. Strickler have him a skeptical look.

"I said that much." Jim reminded him sheepishly, "I guess my body's still adjusting to the tail." He said, shifting in the chair a bit. Strickler nodded.

"Yes, that is expected. Your further transformations should be a lot less tiring. The first shift is always the most uncomfortable."

"That's actually...really comforting to know." Jim admitted. Strickler clasped his hands behind his back.

"That being said, Young Atlas, I'm not sure you can trust my word completely. I have never dealt with a halfbreed such as yourself. I'm afraid I will not know all of the complications that will come with your biology."

"And that's—that's less comforting." Jim deadpanned, slumping over and setting his elbows on the table. "What do you think might be different about me compared to any other changeling?"

The older changeling pulled up a chair and sat down next to the younger. He laced his fingers and set them on his knee. He looked up at the ceiling, thoughts swirling in his eyes.

"Well, I'm not sure how much you remember—your reaction to the Grave Sand seemed extreme—but you were not able to access your transformation on your own."

Jim ran his hands through his hair and grabbed onto the base of his horns, tugging slightly. That was definitely going to be a new tell he would have to work with. He nodded, indicating that he was listening. "Yeah I remember...the gaggletack." He said.

Stricklander nodded and continued. "I will be straightforward with you, I do not think you will be ready to get your human skin back anytime soon—I would give your body a few days to settle and get used to your new form. The pain needs to subside in your trollish body before you put any more strain on it to try and get back into your human one."

"...okay."

"But when that day comes, it...I'm not sure you will be able to instigate the transformation on your own." Strickler admitted.

"Well I—how do you know? No one ever taught me how." Jim retorted, feeling a weird spark of offense to the statement ignite in his gut.

"Very few changelings are taught how to transform, Jim." Strickler explained in the calm voice he used when he explained a lesson to a struggling student, "it's instinct, and not very hard to pick up on. The fact that you were not able to deal with your situation on your own last night indicates to me that are not able to transform on your own."

Strickler took Jim's thoughtful silence as an invite to continue.

"I believe the Grave Sand enhanced the strength of your father's trollish genes to be able to become dominate. But the use of a gaggletack is what activated that dominancy. It would be vise versa for your mother's genes."

"Well do you think I might be able to build up the ability to willingly transform?" Jim asked, quirking an eyebrow. The older changeling sighed.

"Your familiar and changeling sides are in the same dimension." He began, speaking as he thought, "if it weren't for that fact I think it might be plausible, but considering both forms are in the same body, I find it highly unlikely."

Jim didn't say anything. To be fair, what was he really supposed to say? He simply nodded his head, and stretched in the chair.

"You're taking this a lot better than I thought you would, Jim. Are you sure you're okay?" Strickler hesitated, "I know you have no reason to trust me, but you can talk to me."

Jim shook his head before the man even finished. "No no I'm fine—Right now, at least, I um...I'm just tired. And a bit confused. But not as shocked as I probably should be, ya know?"

Strickler reached over and ruffled Jim's hair affectionately. "Yes. I understand."

The boy struck a tentative smile.

"I...could go for some breakfast." The younger changeling admitted, finding that changing the subject was the only thing left on his mind.

He eyed the counter, spying the tequila bottle left open and the shot glasses discarded on the island in what was most likely some interruption on his behalf.

"Or I could go for one of those." He giggled, even if he was only half-joking.

Strickler turned and looked over at the alcohol, before sending a playful-yet-stern glare at the Trollhunter.

"Nice try, Young Atlas. How about we get you something a little more easy on the stomach instead, hmm?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Avocado Dad sm 
> 
> Until next time, my lovelies ;)
> 
> ~Local Dragon Haunt


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